Mac L'Amour
by PeachyLana
Summary: I know what you're thinking. Is this story going to live up to this spectacular title? Well, it's a Walking Dead crossover. Pre-movie and pre-zombie apocalypse Mac runs into Andrea, later Amy. Explicit smut ensues. There is serious noncon stuff later.
1. Chapter 1

Obligatory disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Thanks to Jac and Elle for motivation, my husband for the title and editing, and Norman of course. This is a Mac story so you should already know what to expect. If you are a fan of Norman RPFs mine are linked through my profile page.

**Mac L'Amour**

Andrea hit the brakes at the first place that looked like it had a restroom. She'd been driving for hours, so being picky wasn't an option at this point. Ignoring the dilapidated conditions, she ran inside wanting to make this stop as hastily as possible. Looking at the rusted vehicles in the parking lot she was sure her car would be up on cinderblocks by the time she returned.

She made it quick, and stepped out of the restroom back into the stale smoke and musty bar. Andrea checked her phone and texted back her sister. She considered getting something to drink for the road. She had hours more to go. _Do they even have coffee here?_ Looking around the corner to the bar, past the fake fern, she instantly changed her mind. The scruffiest, sketchiest looking men she'd ever seen were crowding the area. _Nope! _She knew better than to get within ten feet of men like that. Pausing at the door, she eyed the man with the dirty blonde hair and decent looking body. Andrea huffed when her sister texted again, and as she crafted a reply she heard his voice.

It was a shitty few weeks for Mac. Rebuilding a meth lab was a goddamned nightmare, and he was down a man thanks to his fuckwit half-siblings, Devon and Regina. Should have killed those two, especially Devon; that obsessed little prick. At least Reggie was at a hot piece of ass, but the both of them were fucking idiot kids. He lost it on Regina when all that shit went down, but Devon and that stupid fuck Harley were really to blame. They dragged her there and got her high. He was just trying to do his fucking job, but those assholes destroyed all of it.

Mac clenched the empty shot glass in his hand, shifting uncomfortably in his work clothes instead of his regular coveralls. The old man wasn't there yet so Mac took advantage of the bar, just like he did everything else. He had to listen, albeit half-assed, to arguments from the two new idiots that he acquired to cook for him on whether branching out to other drugs would be profitable. But Mac wasn't in the state of mind to discuss business. He never really gave a fuck about it to start with, especially not now.

He eyed a local girl at the bar, a young twenty-something. She had long brown hair and a rail thin body. She used to have some curves, but over the course of a couple months the meth aged her at least a decade and drained her of a minimum of twenty pounds. From behind she didn't look too bad, but that was a different story as soon as you saw her face. Her eyes raked over him. Mac knew she wanted more meth, but at least the bitch was smart enough to not bother him about it. There wasn't any to have, and he was preoccupied enough with wanting more for himself. He had no idea meth felt like _that._

"You fuck her?" one of his new side employees' asked.

"Who the fuck didn't?" he scoffed absentmindedly, slamming down his empty beer bottle beside the shot glasses, rattling them. There weren't many women in the town that he hadn't, and this one was definitely nothing special. Hell, it was how she paid for the drugs. Mac stared at the empty amber bottle in his hand, scraping off the label with laser-like focus and began describing fucking that girl in graphic detail to a man he barely knew.

His attention was so pinpointed he barely caught a glimpse of a woman leave from the opposite side of the bar in his periphery. Just as he began to turn his head in her direction, Walter walked in from the back. Mac didn't give it a second thought; he wasn't in the mood to deal with the old man about the status of production. He reached over the counter, grabbed a bottle of jack, and left.

Driving down the flat, deserted highway Mac unconsciously tightened his grip on the steering wheel. All the shit that went down in the cave and the skin crawling need for meth drowned out everything else in his head. He passed a blonde woman beside a stranded car on the side of the road, and didn't hesitate to quickly turn around. Fuck, a distraction from his fucked up life was exactly what he needed.

Mac remembered the foreign make and metallic blue paint; it was at the bar not more than five minutes ago, but he sure as fuck didn't remember seeing her. Pulling over more than a quarter mile away, Mac rolled down his window and watched the surprisingly attractive woman throw a fit on the side of the road. Blondie was so wound up she didn't seem to even see him, too busy cursing at her phone. She turned her verbal barrage next to the two-by-four in the middle of the road full of protruding nails. He snickered without an ounce of sympathy for her. How the hell did she not see that? Women didn't know how to drive worth a damn.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" The blonde kicked the flat tire and held up her phone; squinting into the sunlight she moved around trying to get signal. Mac debated how he wanted to broach the situation. There were so many options and angles to take that his indecision annoyed him. He wasn't sure he had the patience to try and talk her up first; he was too agitated and restless.

Blondie shouted into her phone. He opened his door and slowly got out, leaning against the side of the truck. Mac knew better than to just run up on a girl in broad daylight and the voyeuristic nature of it was giving him more enjoyment than he expected.

"Amy?" She asked. "Can you hear me? It's Andrea!"

_Andrea_. Mac ran his tongue over his lower lip. Was Amy as hot as this piece of ass in front of him? Maybe her getting a call through wasn't bad. Another girl trying to help her friend would just double the fun.

Andrea put both hands on her hips, cradling the phone between her neck and shoulder, and bent over to reach for something Mac couldn't discern from his position. "There's barely any cell service out here and I got a flat tire, but it's nothing I can't handle."

Mac chuckled, _we'll see about that_.

"Amy? Are you still there?!" Andrea growled and shoved the phone back into her pocket. "Stupid, shit-hole town."

Mac looked over his shoulder; the sun was setting. Maybe she'd start walking; get herself lost, and he could just happen to pick her up as she hitch-hiked. Blondie better get her ass moving if she didn't want to be stuck in the dark.

"What the fuck?" He murmured, watching her pop her trunk and retrieve the jack. Bitch was going to change the tire on her own. Well, good for her. He wouldn't have thought she'd attempt it by the look of her. Her car wasn't cheap and her clothes certainly weren't from Wal-mart.

She wiped her brow with an arm, brushing the sweat out of her eyes as she jacked up the small car. He was standing there too long. If he was going to do something, now was the time. The stereo blasted while Blondie unscrewed lug nuts on her knees. Mac walked up to her open car door and nearly laughed at the sight of her purse sitting openly in her seat. He stole her wallet just because she was that stupid. As he slid it into his pocket, he took the keys from the ignition abruptly stopping the music.

Andrea whipped her head up and looked over the hood, quickly jumping to her feet with a glare. "Excuse me," she snapped, walking over to him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Smirking and rubbing the blonde scruff on his chin, he looked her over. Definitely not the coy type or a teenage twat; she was a woman and a damn good looking one. Tank top, no bra, and while a skirt would be ideal her thin pants could be torn with his hands if he wanted to.

"Gonna drain your battery like that," he said not even trying to hide the predatory lustful gaze.

His leer had caused worry, anxiety, fear and arousal in plenty of women, but this Andrea chick certainly didn't mask her disgust. One look of her grey-eyed glare would make most men turn and walk away, but Mac wasn't most men. He guessed her to be about his age, and for some unknown reason that turned him on. Around these parts with drugs, alcohol, and kids women looked double their age by the time they hit eighteen. He closed the distance and glanced downward at her out-of-state license plate with a smile. Her eyes lingered over the embroidered name on his work shirt, and she scoffed while silently mouthing his name.

Turning that truck around was the best thing that happened to him in a while. Wavy blonde hair, nice tits, and tight body; fuck, she was beautiful. Most wouldn't think so considering her prissy scowl, but Mac didn't mind that. He couldn't have asked for anything better.

"Couldn't call anyone to give you a hand?" He asked. The way she scrutinized him as he closed in on her wasn't anything new.

"Not with the shitty cell phone service here. I barely got ahold of my sister to let her know I'm going to be late." Andrea crossed her arms and maintained a good deal of confidence despite his sketchy looks. She waited for him to offer to help like she was goddamned entitled to it. Rolling her eyes with a heavy sigh, Andrea finally heaved down the spare from her trunk, then suddenly snapped at his lack of movement.

"Are you just going to watch me, or what?" She was irritated at his apparent enjoyment of watching her sweat and struggle. She rolled the tire along past him. He got a nice look at her ass, and she seated herself back on the ground without a second glance in his direction. Mac eyed her keys in his hand and went back to his truck.

"Thanks for stopping by!" She shouted.

Mac clicked his tongue. _Fuckin' bitch._

He wasn't even pissed. No, this was going to be fun. He pulled off his work shirt and threw it, along with her keys and wallet, into the front seat of the cab. She had some fucking nerve. Walking back over to her, he could hear her still bitching to herself.

"Useless white trash," she muttered until she heard him approach again. Sighing with exaggeration, Blondie looked over to him and paused, wide-eyed. Surprised seeing him in just a gray wife beater, Andrea's eyes moved down his body; he could tell by her stare that she liked what she saw. She reluctantly shifted her gaze away, and tried to refocus on securing the spare in place.

He smiled smugly and picked up the flat tire, throwing it easily into the trunk for her. Mac caught her looking him over again as his back was turned. He wasn't going to let that slide.

"You gonna keep eye fucking me?"

Andrea sputtered at his audacity, standing up, and holding the tire-iron in her hand. "Look buddy, I don't need your help. But if you want to make yourself useful you can get me some gas."

He walked up on her, and Andrea let herself get backed against the side of her car unaffected. If anything, slightly amused and tapped the tool on her arm. Soon she was going to realize he wasn't a fucking drunk, frat boy at a party. If Blondie thought that tire-iron was keeping her safe she was dead wrong.

His eyes raked over her. "I bet a girl like you has never been fucked right." So much for going the slow route; he went right to it. Mac spit on the ground and she curled her lip in distain. Oh, she hated him; the contempt was tangible, and he liked it.

She wrinkled her nose; her eyes and smirk said the words before they escaped her mouth. "Are you kidding me?"

Once again he was impressed she wasn't acting discomforted by him. She wasn't a young naïve kid. This was a woman, and by the glint in her eye he knew she couldn't be this fucking dumb. Maybe she thought she could take him.

Condescending vitriol dripped from her voice. "Mac, is it? No offense, but you aren't my type." She meant all the offense in the world. "And a word of advice," she put her hand on her hip. "Being an asshole isn't the best way to come onto a girl."

"That right?" He pressed his hips against hers; pushing her back to the car so she could feel his hard-on. Fucking bitch was going to figure it out soon enough. He still had her keys. Watching that sink into her head was going to be a fucking delight. _You wanna play, let's play_.

Mac smirked looking up and down her body again. She fucking thought she was something special, didn't she? "You're an uptight little bitch, aren't you?"

Apparently that hit a nerve, and she looked him dead in the eye. "Go fuck yourself."

"Nah, I'd rather fuck you." His blue eyes looked right back into hers, telling her the gravity of the situation

Andrea raised a brow, "I'm sure you would." She looked around, and then leaned in a little bit. "Must be slim pickings around here, trailer trash and meth addicts." To make it worse she gave him pitying look. "Let me guess, all of you are related too, right?"

He beat the shit out of men and women for less than what she had said so far. Mac clenched his fists in anticipation just letting it build up.

And Andrea wasn't about to slow it down either, looking up over his shoulder disinterested. "Shouldn't you be stockpiling Sudafed or something? I've got to get on my way. Nice talk though."

She nudged him back with the tire-iron, and gave herself some space. Mac knocked the tool out of her hand. Using way more force than necessary he shoved her back against the car door, just a warning of what was to come. She grunted at the impact, but only glared up at him.

Fine. The bitch thought she could play it cool? Mac decided to just let her know how deep she was in it. "You want your keys back, don't ya?"

_There it is._ That sudden 'oh shit' flash of fear in her face. There was something so fucking delicious about it. But it quickly turned to rage.

"Give me my keys, now!" She shouted at him, and tried to get out around him through the small gap he left. He let her start to get by him, but then he suddenly encircled her neck with his arm from behind. Constricting while her hands pulled on his arm; he leaned back strengthening the chokehold. She changed tactics once she realized she couldn't pry him off of her and elbowed him in the stomach.

"Dumb cunt," he cursed and twisted as he threw her to the ground. Andrea grasped out as she fell, tearing his shirt, and pulling him down with her.

It would be a lie if Mac said he didn't like when they fought back. That was half the fun, but eventually that shit got tiring and today he didn't have the patience for it.

He finally gained some leverage and rolled on top of her. Their ground fighting kicked up the dusty earth, and both coughed breathing it in, as rocks dug and tore into their skin. It quickly became apparent to Mac that she wasn't fighting as hard as she could have been. From earlier observations of her toned body, the bitch could put up a damn good fight if she wanted to. He had her on her back, and used both of his hands to hold her wrists to the ground. Their faces were coated in dirt, sand, and sweat. Even though Mac had her pinned down, he had options. He could head-butt her, maybe break her nose, that would stun her alright.

"Stupid bitch," he spat.

"Fuck you," she rasped from the ground, arching her back to try and get him off, but grinding herself against him. "You have a very extensive vocabulary."

"Gonna," he hissed, and ground his hips back down on her. "Mmm, do that again," and quickly released her wrist to draw his knife. From seemingly out of nowhere, Andrea pulled a gun from her waistband, and pressed the muzzle against his chest just as the blade tip of his knife scratched her neck. He had no idea she had it on her, but it didn't matter.

She turned her head and spit out some dirt in her mouth, "This gets you off?"

Now they were stuck in a fucked up Mexican standoff. He breathed hard into her face. "Lots of things get me off, and you're one stupid bitch to not be fucking terrified right now. Where'd a girl like you get a gun?" He asked, not the least bit worried about the loaded firearm, and swatted it out of her hand with relative ease.

She grasped his wrist holding the knife with her newly free hand. Andrea kicked but he was safely nestled in-between her legs. She was so warm, her skin was sickeningly soft, and, damn she smelled good.

Mac drew the knife down her neck, scratching her skin. She couldn't hold him back with her pitiful strength. "I'll slit your throat here and now and fuck you while you bleed out." He warned.

"That seems like an awful lot of effort for some pussy," Andrea panted. "You got a tiny dick or something?" Her words were labored; his weight began to exhaust her. He smiled; she was losing steam. He was more curious than pissed at her now. Sure that deserved a punch right to her back-talking face, but he found her shit-talk more amusing than the usual sniveling and crying.

"Guess you'll find out soon enough." He moved quickly, tossed the knife aside, and took both her wrists forcing her onto her stomach. Mac pinned her wrists behind her, essentially sitting on her back. She could barely breathe; he could feel her struggle to inhale.

Mac's free hand dug into her back pocket, and pulled out her phone. He scrolled through her contacts, it was the first one, and grinned.

"How 'bout I call Amy. Tell her that her sister is in trouble and she needs to get her ass here." He had her now. She instantly stilled beneath him. Maybe he fucking should anyway, she had perfectly fine signal. "She younger? I bet she'd be a great fuck."

"You cocksucker," she wheezed out beneath him, and turned her head with a snarl.

She was his now. Nothing she could fucking do about it. He took her by the hair and shoved the side of her head into the ground. Mac stood up, kicked away her gun to a safe distance, and took a needed breath while Blondie was too weak to move. She groaned at the pounding headache; it had to hurt to breathe, but she started to push herself back up.

Gasping in the much needed oxygen first, she still retorted. "You know, maybe if you bathed more than once a month you wouldn't need to waste half your evening. But something tells me you're not a great decision maker."

She was still at it. _Good._ No way in hell was he gagging this one. "That's coming from you?" He asked. Mac kicked her in the side just hard enough to get a noise out of her, and put her back to the ground. "You sure look like you've got it all figured out." He needed a fucking drink, hauled her up roughly by her arm, and pushed her forward as she weakly staggered.

"Was that sarcasm?" She smirked. "I'm impressed."

He pulled the door down to the back of the truck and shoved her in. "You really like making things difficult for yourself." Mac grasped the bottle of whiskey he stole from the bar and took a swig.

"You're a real piece of work," Andrea sneered, and looked out into the empty road. As if anyone from this town would stop and help her.

"Here, maybe this will loosen ya up," he grasped her wavy gold hair by the pony tail and yanked her head back, pouring the liquor into her mouth, and messily down her chest. She instantly tried to wrench away, coughing as she aspirated another thing that wasn't air today. Her curses were unintelligible while she sputtered, wanting to double over to clear her airway, but he was on top of her, tearing the thin spaghetti straps of her camisole. She dug her nails into his skin, growling at him, and then wincing at the burn the whiskey left in her sinuses and throat. He noted her decision to not claw at his eyes or hit him in the face. Now it was starting to make sense.

"If I didn't leave my knife by your damn car, I'd be cutting them off and, believe me, Andrea." Mac hissed her name in her ear, earning a shudder, "you'd be bleeding." That sounded really good to him now. He wished he had it nearby even if it was to just graze her skin enough to draw blood. He ran his hand over her chest, pulling her ripped shirt up, her hard nipples were another clue something was up.

"Am I supposed to be thankful for that, Mac?" She snarled his name with the same tone you'd use for a dog.

It became apparent Mac didn't need a knife, a gag, or even fucking rope. Women either fought back hard, or let him do what he wanted out of fear. She was doing neither. "You filthy little cunt," he smirked down at her. "You like this." He punctuated the sentence with a sound slap across her face.

That enraged her, and she unlatched her claws to hit him, but he slammed the back of her head into the truck floor with a metallic clang. It sounded worse than it was, but it had to hurt. He pulled his shirt off, while she cursed rubbing her head, and undid his pants.

"You were out there watching me," she lifted her head, blinking back the black spots that swarmed her vision to see him shirtless and undressing. "That's how you know my name."

"Knew you weren't pretty _and _smart," Mac dug his fingers into the waist band of her pants and tugged them violently downward. He forced her legs apart again. That insult seemed to anger her more than anything else he said.

"I'm a lawyer, you dumb fuck. Bet you didn't even make it out of high-." She was cut off as he placed a hand on her chest and shoved her back down to the truck, licking the alcohol off her neck. She gripped his dirty blond hair in her hands, pulling hard, but not enough to rip it out. He growled at her then hissed against her lips.

"Bite me, and I'll tear out your fucking tongue." He was fucking serious with that shit.

He gripped her hair, and pulled back, parting her lips just enough to shove his tongue into her mouth. God she tasted good, whiskey and woman. Her hands weakly pushed at him, and she tried to turn her head away. Mac left her mouth like she wanted and his hand grasped one of her breasts. He sucked on her nipple hard, and she arched her back trying to move away from him. He bit down enough on her nipple to get a cry. Her voice was sexy, and he'd heard cries from women plenty of times, this wasn't purely pain or even mostly pain.

He sat up wetting his fingers in his mouth and then shoving them into her pussy, while she whined and bucked. He forced them deep, and she flailed as if she could try and get out from under him. _Like she even wanted to anyway._

Mac grabbed her neck, keeping it to the ground as he pushed his hard cock against her pussy. She clenched her eyes shut, gritting her teeth, he got her just barely wet enough. She stopped fighting as hard as soon as he got fully inside her. They all did, since it was hopeless at that point.

"Nothing? Not even a 'go fuck yourself'?" He asked, pointedly thrusting hard and deep, wanting to hear her whimper.

Andrea took a breath. "Go fuck yourself," it came out strained and higher pitched she probably would have liked. He didn't give a fuck what she was trying to do. She was hot and fucking tight.

"Pathetic," he murmured. "If you wanted my cock that bad, all you had to do was ask."

"I thought you were going to fuck me hard." She growled.

He lightly laughed at her approach, and grasped her face, squeezing hard. "You fuckin' got it," he shifted her legs up higher around him right before he slammed into her again. What was surprising was that she kept them there. She wanted to be a smart ass even now?

"That better for you?" He mocked.

"Much," she hissed, even moving her hips up to his.

As if forcing herself to get some sort of enjoyment out of it would piss him off. "You think I give I shit if you like it or not?" Mac sneered, and she growled right back against his lips. "You fucking think I'd let you cum even if you could?" He could feel her gasps against his mouth, her nails drawing blood in his arms and he loved it. "I bet you could cum you nasty fucking whore."

Andrea bared her teeth as if she was going to bite him. Even when he specifically told her what the fucking repercussions were. "Go ahead, fucking do it," he taunted.

She slapped his face instead. It was a decent slap, but nothing close to what a normal woman would do to a man forcing himself on her if she wanted to fight back. Since he laid eyes upon her, Mac's brain was able to do something it hadn't in a long time. Actually think. Everything was usually so fucking routine; all the motions of life were automatic. No matter what anyone thought, Mac wasn't an idiot; there was something very fucking off here.

He could have punched her, or done a myriad of other things. Instead he stopped. He fucking stopped, just to see the confusion in her eyes. Mac yanked her head back by her hair and sunk his teeth into her neck. That earned an honest to god scream, and the involuntary arch only pushed his cock deeper inside of her. She moaned in response, opening her mouth to take a groaning breath and his lips were on hers hard again, bruising. She parted her lips, kissing him back just as violently. He bit her lip and she boldly did so in return soon even after gasping with pain in her neck. The copper tang of blood hit his tongue, with no idea if it was his or hers. Mac did know that he could get deeper into her now; she liked it enough to get wet.

She closed her eyes and he slapped her, digging his fingers into her hips as he fucked her. "Open your fucking eyes and watch me fuck you, slut."

Reenergized by his insults, Andrea brazenly tried to shove him off of her, but he only took her hair hard in his hand and fucked her harder. She stopped pushing at him and scratched her nails over his shoulders. A telltale gasp and her gray-blue eyes rolling up were obvious signs she was going to come. Mac debated fucking punishing her for all her shit, but she clenched herself down on him, as if the fucking bitch read his damn mind. He twisted her hair as she came with her tight pussy squeezing around his cock brought him to the edge.

Mac pulled out, and threw her over onto her stomach. Andrea groaned painfully as he slammed himself back inside of her wet, hot pussy from behind. She panted hard, now making those whimpering and tiny cries, especially now that he bottomed out with each deeper thrust. Mac didn't care, he let her come, and he was downright nice to her compared what he could have been. So he was going to fuck her as hard as he liked, and she could just fucking deal with it. Mac came inside of her with a growl, his fingers sure to leave bruising marks on her creamy skin. He shoved her away from him as soon as he finished. He was more breathlessness than he expected to be, and took a breath before speaking.

"Was is worth it?" He asked, looking over the freshly fucked woman, dirty, bruised and a bit bloody.

"What?" Andrea breathed heavily, pushing herself up. Mac used his foot to kick her out of the truck bed to the dirt. He pulled up his pants and hopped down, throwing her tattered clothes in her lap.

"Stop fucking around. You know what I mean. Try not to be so fucking obvious for the next person you want to fuck." Look at him, giving her advice. "You trash your car on purpose too, ya sick bitch?"

Andrea looked at him shocked. What did she really think he couldn't figure it out? She smiled a little and struggled to get back on her pants; her thighs were drenched with his cum that ran out of her.

He looked down at her without an ounce of lost intensity in his blue eyes. She still looked so good. He wanted to fuck her again.

"Maybe I shouldn't let you leave."

"You wouldn't like that," Andrea said grunting in pain and trying to finish dressing.

"If I knew you were into that sick shit I could have really had some fun." Mac thought about all the terrible things he could do to her, but she was right. As hard as she was Mac knew he'd break her down fast and get bored with her quick.

Finished with her, Mac left her there, walking by her to pick up his knife and saw her stiffen as he passed her again. _Good._ The fact that she knew he might still kill her made him smile. He tossed her keys a good ways down the street, just to be a dick. Getting back into the cab of his truck he lit a cigarette, his phone had several missed calls, but he didn't give a fuck. He was going to go home and sleep.

Andrea let her head fall back onto the headrest of the driver's seat. "Fucking hell," she muttered, looking at her reflection in the rearview mirror. "I'm just as bad as he is."

She had a text from her sister. 'Make it there yet?'

Andrea smiled and texted back. 'Took a little detour. Good luck on finals tomorrow.'

'Alright, stay safe.' Amy finished.

Andrea decided to omit the bit about nearly being killed by a meth dealer/addict.

He could have killed her, and that made it, sickeningly, a little more invigorating. _Jesus, I'm sick._ She couldn't help it; she had a thing for screwed up men.

She yawned and hoped she hit a motel soon. _That was exhausting_. The adrenaline comedown exacerbated it. She smiled to herself. One thing was certain, she was definitely taking this route home.

"Yeah, Mac, it was worth it," Andrea smirked and pulled back onto the road.


	2. Mac Attack

This chapter has complete nonconsensual explicit sex (rape) so be warned. I'm assuming people are familiar with The Walking Dead including Andrea and her younger sister Amy. It's pretty fucked up. I'm warning you right now.

**Mac Attack**

"I'm not having anyone over," Amy defensively answered the phone before her sister could even say 'hi'.

Andrea sighed on the other side of the line. "I was just going to let you know the flight was delayed. I know I can trust you at my house by now, Amy."

"Oh." The young blonde paused and angrily tapped the thermostat on the wall. "Well, text me when you get there so I know you made it okay." Amy cradled the phone in her shoulder as she opened the windows. It was a sad state of affairs when a tech savvy girl was unable to figure out the touch screen of the automated AC control.

"Are you opening the windows? I showed you how to work the air before I left."

Amy rolled her eyes; damn her sister's creepy hearing. "I'm just opening the ones in the back. That's cool, right? You don't have any psychos around this neighborhood. Or is there a mental asylum nearby that you didn't tell me about?" She went through the cabinets and found the liquor with a handwritten post-it note: _You aren't 21 yet._ Amy ignored it and took the bottle of rum out making herself a drink.

"As long as the back fence is locked then I don't care. You're the one staying there alone. I recall you not able to handle a thunderstorm by yourself." Andrea paused. "Are you drinking?"

Amy rapped her knuckles loudly on the coffee table. "Oh well, my pizza is here, gotta go! Safe travels!" She ended the call and flopped onto the couch.

Summer meant living with her sister in-between semesters. Just a couple more years to go and she'd be done with school, but without a fancy degree in law or medicine. Her parents were intelligent enough to figure out she couldn't cut it as a lawyer or doctor. She had the pleasure of living in the shadow of an older successful sibling.

At least she had the road trip next summer, which was going to be interesting. Trapped in a car with her sister didn't sound like the optimal way to spend her time off, but she'd begrudgingly go along. Amy flipped through the television groaning aloud into the empty house at the lack of decent programming.

After hours of absolute boredom, Amy turned off the lamp as she crawled into bed. She wasn't tired, but there was nothing to do. A sigh left her lips as she stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Alone and sleepless, her hand slid down beneath her shorts and panties. Getting off might at least relax her enough to fall asleep.

* * *

Mac's alertness faltered as he drove in the dark. He didn't even know what day it was. It wasn't unusual to not eat or sleep for days at a time when he got fucked up, and it just had to catch up with him now. But fuck, he still had his meth on him, that would perk him the hell up. The blonde woman he fucked months ago kept popping up in his head, and in a moment of reckless drug-induced obsession he decided to track the bitch down. This chick liked to fuck rough, and he had enough trouble getting pussy back home. Mac built himself quite the reputation. Women in his town learned to steer clear of him at the bar, until they drank too much and wanted to test themselves. It always ended up with the bitch in tears and screaming at him to get the fuck out.

Of course she lived in the fucking suburbs. The unfamiliar neighborhood exuded class with quaint architecture, trees, and manicured lawns. It slapped him in the face with the reminder that he lived in the ninth circle of hell. Bitch had money, and Mac had nothing against sitting back and letting a women pay for everything. It sounded fucking sweet.

He glanced at her license, stolen months ago, the address matched the two story little house with a fenced in back yard. One faint light illuminated a room upstairs. He reclined the seat and dug in his pocket for a lighter. A quick hit off the pipe before he did this. Immediately after his inhale, Mac leaned his head against the headrest, taking a second to let the overwhelming sensation of the rush pass_. Fuck, this shit is good._ Who would have believed he excelled at chemistry, of all fucking things. After the intensity wore down, without any patience or forethought, he scrapped the idea of being careful.

* * *

Mac went around back as all the lights switched off and scowled, irrationally irritated at her early bedtime. He hopped the fence to the backyard; windows wide open for the cool night air.

_Perfect._ Mac cut the screen with a knife he carried and climbed in through the window. He stood still a moment and considered there actually might be someone else there. Hell, she could be married or some shit.

_Fuck it_; an audience never bothered Mac. Make him watch, now _that_ got him hot.

Mac walked around the house like he owned it. He didn't fucking care. The bookcase full of useless knickknacks caught his attention, and he picked up a glass vase. A meow startled him and he glared at the cat rubbing against his leg, barely resisting the urge to punt the fucking thing across the room. Instead he threw the vase as hard as he could against the wall. It shattered into pieces with a large crash at bottom of the stairs. Mac heard his own heart beating hard, blood rushing in his ears. _Let's do this_. Agitated and impatient, he wanted to just fucking _go,_ slam her into the ground, make her scream and beg for mercy. She liked it rough? Well, she was in for it now.

Amy bolted upright with the crash, interrupting her oncoming orgasm. What the fuck? She calmed herself. Had to be that damn cat, probably knocked over one of those stupid knickknacks. But even with that reasonable justification, being alone in this house terrified her. She switched on the bedside lamp in the bedroom, and warily crept out into the hallway.

She saw the broken vase at the bottom of the stairs in the darkness. The cat meowed and ran up from the darkness past her. "Ugh it was you! You scared the hell out of me." She sighed in relief, but then grumbled. "Guess I need to clean it up."

Mac's eyes raked over her darkened, back-lit figure as she descended the stairs; he didn't remember her voice being that high. She swatted at the wall. Was she fumbling to find the light switch in her own house? He narrowed his eyes more agitated at her sloth-like pace then the strangeness of it.

A curse escaped her lips stepping down at the bottom. "Ow, shit!" She leaned against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, and pulled a shard of glass from the bottom of her foot. Finally, she found the switch and turned it on illuminating the stairway. Barely a few feet from her, the shadows still cloaked where he stood. Not he was trying to hide.

Mac clearly saw this was NOT the same woman he fucked before. Well, too late now. And what the fuck did he care? Pussy was pussy, and this one was fucking young. He came forward as she sat on the bottom step and inspected the wound, a bit of blood ran down her heel. She heard his movement and whipped her head up. Mac came out of the shadows and right in front of her. She gasped out, wide-eyed and momentarily silent in shock.

"Who the fuck are you?" He asked with pleasant surprise.

Amy reeled back against the stairs and awkwardly climbed to her feet, favoring the injured one as she took another step back up.

"Who are you, and how the hell did you get in here?" She ignored his question and demanded her own instead, but her eyes darted behind him looking for an exit. Her erratic breathing did nothing to hide her fear.

The amusement in his face didn't sit well with Amy. He reeked of danger and practically towered over her; she had nowhere to run.

"You got a sister, right?" Mac couldn't remember either of their names, not that he bothered to try. Her body language shifted, just barely into something more relaxed and relieved.

Amy looked over him skeptically. "Yeah, you know Andrea?" Ugh don't tell me she's seeing this…sleazebag. The man epitomized the word 'trashy', with ripped up faded, stained jeans and a worn shirt that looked nearly threadbare. Andrea's bad taste in men was even worse than she thought.

Andrea. Mac looked down at her injured foot and unconsciously licked his lips. "Thought she'd be here is all," he said simply as he trailed his eyes up her body, paused at her chest, and then finally looked into her eyes. If her fight or flight fear mode disengaged that easy then he might actually feel a bit of remorse for what he planned to do

Amy didn't like the way he looked at her. No one's eyes ever held such raw intensity before. The icy blue eyes displayed unresolved hatred, a terrible mix with his sick smile. She shivered as he sized her up.

"Well, she's not here," Amy nodded her head towards the door. "You just saunter into someone else's house? Try knocking or calling her first!" The small smile on his lips unnerved her. Why did he watch her like an animal?

"Just you here all alone, right?" Fuck subtlety. The bitch had to be an idiot if she didn't get it by now.

Amy grimaced; she'd been to enough parties to recognize someone tweaking the fuck out. The obvious signs of clenched hands, the constant shifting stance from the discomfort of standing in one spot, and the biggest clue that he looked like he wanted to physically do something to her. Her brain swirled with the fact that it appeared Andrea not only fucked this junkie, but gave him a key too.

Mac smirked. Little Sister was hot, and fucking nervous, no matter what she tried to put into her voice. "The two of us could have some fun without your sister, yeah?"

"I'm calling the cops right now if you don't get the fuck out." Amy channeled her inner Andrea, who taught her to not take shit from anyone. Easier said than done.

Mac shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, fine." She glared at him, not getting why he didn't move. Stupid kid. He had to spell it out for her. He put both his hands on both walls of the stairway and looked into her fear-filled pale blue eyes. "Go ahead, call the cops."

Her whole body tensed like prey in the sight of a predator. Mac gambled on her running instead of fighting based on the vulnerability that poured off of her. He even gave her a head start when she fled up the stairs. Now she was trapped. You dumb bitch.

Amy heard heavy boots on the wooden steps behind her and unconsciously shrieked. She sprinted into the bedroom and tried to slam the door closed, but the hinge immediately swung back. His work boot wedged between the frame; she pushed against it with all the strength in her small body. It wasn't going to work, and even so, that door was as durable as balsa wood.

"Gonna have to do better than that," he laughed caustically, and knocked her back with one good shove against the door.

Amy hit the carpeted floor and scrambled to her phone on the nightstand. Her shaky hands barely got the 9 entered before he ripped it from her hand, and in the process smacked her hard with it against her temple. She crumpled to the ground, still clinging to consciousness. She groaned, and opened her eyes flinching as he dropped the phone on the floor not more than a foot from her face, then stomped it. She barely shut her eyes in time to prevent the debris from blinding her.

"Your sister did better than that. You're just fucking disappointing." He spit at her as she slowly up righted herself.

The room spun and nausea rose in Amy's stomach. "No, no, no," she murmured trying to get back on her feet.

Sadistic glee rushed through Mac's veins watching this pitiful girl. Did she think she had a chance? He stepped away from the doorway, giving her some distance. He fucking invited her to make a run for it.

"You even legal?" He asked smirking, "Not that it'd make a difference. You ain't a virgin. Too pretty for that; look like a sorority slut." Mac ran a hand down his blonde scruffy chin and licked his lips. Amy used all her energy and rush past him.

Mac let the stupid girl awkwardly run by. Let her think she could make it. If she was smart she'd find a weapon, but the outcome of this entire play was predetermined in his mind.

Amy ran too fast to stop herself from sliding into the heavy front door, but managed to turn the deadbolt. She jerked the doorknob, breathing raggedly.

Mac's hand shot in front of her over her shoulder and slammed the door shut. His body crashed against her back throwing her head hard into the blow to the head got her good. Mac looked disgustedly at the unconscious girl at his feet. That was it? No, fucking way. He didn't drive all the fuck the way here for this. He was going to make this worth it.

Mac dragged her easily into the kitchen. His eyes passed over the set up: small table with some chairs, an island, and regular shit in a decent house. Mac's eyes went back to the girl's lean and athletic body. He could just fuck her now, but what was the fun in that?

Now he could take a fucking break. "Better have some shit to drink 'round here," he spoke aloud and threw open cabinet doors until he found what he wanted. Drinking straight from the bottle and pulling a pack of cigarettes from his stained jeans he sat relaxed in a chair at the kitchen table. The anticipation revved him the fuck up and he needed to take a second to fucking think. He looked her over unconscious form again on the floor.

Mac grinned at the sound of her guttural groan when he slapped her face. Amy's eyes fluttered open and once they landed upon him she instantly jerked. Her arms pinned to her sides secured by rope around a kitchen chair; her ankles tied to the wooden legs prevented all movement. The rag in her mouth made her hyperventilate into the fabric. A tangled mess of blonde hair and teary eyes, but Mac found her fucking gorgeous. If he could only bottle and drink fear like this. He took a drag of his cigarette and knocked the ash off on the floor.

She squirmed in her seat, looking up at him as he leaned over her. He didn't have the patience to drag this out. Mac forced her chin up to look at him. "Like pain as much as your slutty sister?"

Amy shook her head. The cloth shoved in her mouth reeked of ammonia and tasted acrid and bitter. It finally sunk in that there was no escape.

"Maybe you'll learn to." Mac snorted, but superficially admired the freckles across her nose and cheeks. Very pretty, but he refused to see anything below the surface. He disregarded her humanity even with scent of her shampoo in his nose. The girl's obvious good upbringing annoyed him. Mac knew the bitch had everything she ever wanted, the spoilt little whore.

Mac hooked a finger in the bandanna pulling it down from her mouth.

"Tell me your sister's number," Mac pushed Amy's knotted blonde hair away from in her eyes and behind her ears. His purposely calm touch a juxtaposition from his treatment seconds ago. "Now."

"Let me go!" Amy shouted, even at the hopelessness of it. It felt like a nightmare, some sort of insanity that only happened in the movies.

Mac continued to pet her like a dog. "You gonna to keep screaming?"

She wrenched her head away from his touch. "Fuck you!" The pure hatred that came out of that pretty mouth got his cock hard.

Mac stuffed the gag back into her mouth and stabbed the burning cigarette out on her shoulder. Her scream muffled by the dirty cloth, and her legs tensed as she tried to kick them violently. He needed raw sound of t pain from her lips. He pulled the gag back down again which freed mouth.

Mac inhaled, lit the cigarette up again, and pulled Amy's head back by her hair. She squealed in terror that he didn't even stop to interrogate her again.

"No, stop, I'll tell you!" She begged, but Mac pressed the burning ash to her skin once more. She cried out in agony at the hot, lit ash against her collarbone. His hand clamped down over her mouth hard. Flicking the crushed cigarette to the ground, he moved away to pull a knife from the block on the island.

"I think you do like this," Mac gestured with the knife dangerously close to her face. "You like making this worse for yourself."

"Please-just don't," she pleaded.

Tears streaked her now flushed red face, and Mac felt absolutely nothing. "Let's try this again," Mac leaned against the kitchen counter.

She slowly and shakily spat out numbers. Mac idly entered them into his phone. He could have checked that the bitch didn't lie, but didn't care about that stupid slut's number. Fucking around with this kid was good enough.

"She won't be back for days," Amy whispered.

Mac raised his eyes back to her. "Then, I'll just have to make do with you for now." The young girl shook her head again violently; fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. The little slut had no idea how much that turned him on. Mac could kill her when he was done with her, but the idea that she would remember him for the rest of her life sounded so much better. He touched the knife to her neck and she leaned her head away with a fearful whimper.

"What's your name again?" Mac questioned. She hesitated, but reluctantly opened her mouth to answer. "You think I actually give a shit?" He cut her off with a laugh, rolling his eyes at her stupidity. Placing his foot on the chair in-between her legs, Mac kicked the chair over onto its back. She barely lifted her head in time to avoid it smacking into the ground.

Mac quickly stepped on either side of her, unzipped his pants, and grasped her hair in his hands. Dropping to his knees, he shoved his cock into her mouth. The terrible angle forced her to lift her neck to take it down without fighting too hard. If she bit him he'd kill her for sure.

"You like to fight?" He chuckled as she bucked against her chair. The choking sensation on his dick wasn't very pleasant, but that wasn't the point. Control. Fuck, nothing beat it. The girl gagged and nearly threw up on his cock; he moaned gripping her hair harder, unable to take his eyes off her suffering. Mac waited until she was the verge of losing her stomach and thrust his cock thrust deep down her hot throat one last time. He finally pulled out of her mouth; she gasped for a needed breath, and Mac slapped her face hard.

Something snapped in Amy's head; she growled and lunged at him. The tight restraints didn't allow her to move an inch.

"That's more like it," he rasped and stood up.

Amy couldn't do anything to talk him out of it or get away, so she screamed. Maybe someone would hear her. Mac kicked her ribs and a hoarse moan escaped her throat. The pain shocked her enough to finally give gravity to her situation. Amy sucked in pained a breath, afraid to scream again.

He kicked off his boots, and she whined helpless on the floor. Mac ran the blade over the thin fabric of her small pajamas and cut her shirt and shorts without much precision. He didn't care to have her naked, but it gave an excuse to cut her.

She hissed at the hot pain of the knife nicking her skin, with various degrees of depth. One deeper cut across the top of her breast welled with blood. Mac quickly dipped his head down, lapping the red trail that ran down her chest up to the source of the wound. Amy bit her lip hard; it burned badly and she tried to throw herself away from him. He hit her hard across the face again.

"Pretty blonde little thing," he smirked and used her dazedness by his unexpected blow to cut her free of the chair. Mac shoved her face down on the floor and wrenched her hands behind her back, retying them. He flipped her onto her back. She was going to watch him do this. He wanted to hear her beg for mercy.

"Stop please; I give you anything you want." She pleaded, but he shoved the rag back into her mouth.

"Then shut the fuck up," he hissed. She squeezed her eyes shut as he forced her thighs apart. "That's right, little bitch, just take it." Her legs quivered around his waist unable to keep them closed. Licking his fingers he stroked his wet cock before entering her smooth pussy. He grunted at the tight heat, she turned her head and cried out in pain. Fuck.

Mac pressed his thumb against her clit; she bucked violently against him in anger. He wondered if the little whore could actually get off if he tried. The shame in her eyes would be a fucking sight to behold, but he wasn't going to waste his time on that. But she clenched up tighter, so Mac continued as he fucked her harder.

Amy freed a hand and swung blindly, punching his chest; she tried to spit out the gag by shoving her shoulder against her mouth for leeway.

"When are you gonna learn," Mac smiled sadistically, and thrust harder getting a distressed smothered scream from her lips. "You can't do anything."

Slamming her wrist to the ground, and with her other hand still tied underneath her, he grasped her neck hard. She tensed and squirmed when he didn't let up. Mac's breathing became ragged as he pounded into her. So fucking tight and hot. Those blue eyes beneath him pleaded for him to stop, and her attempt to throw him off only got a surprising groan from him.

The fleeting thought that he could kill her turned into something more arousing. The girl was pretty much dead already, right? Thinking of choking the life out of her right there brought him close faster than he thought possible. She thrashed desperately, but his fingers dug deeper into her neck. The sound blood rushing in his ears was deafening.

Amy blacked out and her struggling hand fell back limp. Mac's grip faltered with a groan from his lips, his vision tunneled for a moment as the intensity of his orgasm caught him off guard. He needed both hands on the floor to keep from collapsing on top of her still body. He closed his eyes tight, still cumming inside of her and the sounds that came from his throat were fucking embarrassing.

A few silent seconds passed, but Amy breathed harshly and began to cough, regaining awareness. The orgasm weakened Mac. Almost killed the bitch. He withheld a chill at the thought.

The gag loosened from the rough fucking and choking. Amy, still in a pained haze, found herself opening her mouth. She coughed, her throat still recovering unable to get words out.

Mac rolled over, and laughed to himself. "Fuck, that was good." Almost as fucking good as the meth. "Tell your sister she missed out," he got up and stretched.

Amy almost spat something out of rage, but l literally almost killed her a minute ago. He could easily do it again. Just shut up and maybe he'll leave.

He looked down at her as he dressed. "Move and I'll kill you, you get me?"

Amy nodded, sniffling as he went through the kitchen. She maneuvered her wrist around, using her free hand to pick at the knot he tied. Lightheaded from the asphyxiation, she had no ability to focus as if drunk or high. Just sitting upright made the room spin, and everything fucking hurt.

Mac reentered with the bottle of liquor in his hand, took a swig, and then slammed it down on counter. He lit a fresh cigarette and her shoulders drew up in fear, but he picked up his phone and paced. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Andrea." Mac said the name into the phone. Amy realized who he just called and gasped; it only irritated her throat and brought on another coughing fit. She couldn't hear Andrea's side of the conversation.

"I thought you were a good fuck, but I was wrong," he said. His voice was gravelly, still awash with euphoric buzz from the most intense orgasm he ever had. A grin on his lips, he ran a hand through his hair, nudging Amy on the ground with his foot, and gave her a smirk.

Amy was sickened how carefree he managed to look after what he just did. The crash of exhaustion hit her hard. Fucking psycho. And he was going to brag to her sister. She wanted to just pass the fuck out. She shut out the conversation going on above her until Andrea's screaming tirade reached her ears from over the phone line. Mac chuckled. He flicked the ash and Amy winced as it nearly hit her face.

She pushed over to her knees, the room swirled, and she slumped against the wall. Her shoulder burned with a vengeance. She made a muffled noise of agony when his hand clamped over that bruised spot around her neck, suddenly crouched down beside her. She hoped there was something in him that would give her mercy, or just kill her already. He forced her to look at him.

He smirked and thrust two fingers deep inside of her, sore and soaked with his cum. She arched her back in pain; he pulled them out and ran them across her lips, smearing his fluid over them. He sucked the rest off his fingers, gave her cheek a pat, and stood up. She kept her eyes low, but followed the movement of his legs as he walked away from her out of view. A door shut; she leaned her head back against the wall shaking. The sound of a loud engine started up and slowly faded away, allowing her to finally pass out.


End file.
